


The Symmetry of Arrogance and Grace

by Asellas



Series: Saecula Saeculorum [7]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Awkward Romance, M/M, Origin Story, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asellas/pseuds/Asellas
Summary: The war between Heaven and Hell has claimed the lives of untold numbers and broken many things beyond repair. But sometimes, something new is wrought in the smoking ashes.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another addition of 'Asellas Abuses Bits of Biblical Lore For Her Own Devices', now featuring our dearest ghouls Alpha and Omega. I've only done the barest bit of research so, yeah. I'm just running with it.
> 
> I'm going to try and keep chapters for this one a little on the shorter side (for me), to keep it updating a little more consistently than Ab Imo Corde Meo.

The sky is roiling clouds, black slashed with forks of lightning, thunder crashing with the fury of gods at war. Shamsiel lets out a held breath, back straight and unflinching as the next peel of thunder shakes the ground; the truth of that thought is a sad, painful ache through his chest. He tries ignore the weight of his belt dragging on his left hip, the scrape and clink of metal as he walks a discordant, melancholy sound.

_ Six I’ve found today; six brothers dead and gone. _ The halos were dull and lifeless, the metal inert without the spirit of their holders channeling their holy light through them. At the very least he had been able to recover them and give what hastened rites to the fallen he could, casting holy fire upon the corpses to burn them to naught but piles of ash.

He would not suffer having Hell’s minions desecrate their fallen, could not tolerate the mere  _ thought _ of one of the heavenly bodies torn apart and turned to some sickening feast for the ghouls and abominations that Satan sent forth to war against God. It is why though he despised the job at hand, found it indescribably revolting, he still takes it on without complaint.

Rain begins to fall, huge, fat drops that pelt the ground like the tears Shamsiel has shed for each angel that dies on the battlefield, for each living thing that is ended in what he can only see as a needless, ceaseless war. He yearns for the time when it is over, when all can return to peace and prosperity. Lightning flashes again, thunder rumbling right on its heels and he knows that he must seek shelter soon; the forest would provide a meager shelter from the elements. Unfortunately he had ventured further out from their camp than he had initially intended, so caught up in the anguish of his fallen brothers and the fervent search for any others he could possibly save, that there is no way for him to make it back before they close the sanctuary to ride out the storm.

“Just my luck,” he sighs to himself, trotting off deeper into the forest, looking for a place to make a suitable shelter. He comes across a shallow cave, not very large or deep but enough that it would keep his warm and dry from the oncoming tempest. It was thankfully unoccupied, though  there is a stale, musty scent that shows it had seen use at some point by a variety of animals, and he does so hope that they do not decide to return as he’s using it himself. He’s seen enough bloodshed already to last him his immortal lifetime, and does not wish to participate in any on his own if it comes down to self defense.

Darting out to the forest again he gathers up what dry wood he could find, making a stockpile in the back of the cave as he has no notion how long the storm will rage before he could return back to camp. As he’s gathering a last bundle of broken branches he hears something nearby, a pained sound of something wounded. Setting the wood down he stalks silently through the underbrush towards the direction it had come from. The trees give way to a small clearing and he finds a dark figure leaning against a boulder jutting from the earth, form trembling as it labors for air, small, pained whines escaping its throat.

_ It’s a ghoul _ , Shamsiel realizes, going stock still. His innate, empathetic nature demands he go offer aid to wounded, yet at the same time his mind screams at him to draw his blade and smite the creature with holy flames. As his mind wars against itself he watches as the ghoul spits a stream of harsh, unintelligible words, a hand clamped down hard on a dark stained rag held against his abdomen, long, arrow-tipped tail snapping back and forth menacingly. After a few moments the ghoul sways then falls onto his back, groaning in pain as his wounded side is jolted harshly. He mutters a series of softer words before his limbs go slack, eyes unfocused and slipping closed, chest barely moving as he struggles to breathe.

_ I can’t… Lord help me I can’t do it. _ Shaking his head, Shamsiel stands and slowly advances into the clearing, watching the ghoul closely to see if he reacts to his presence. As he kneels at the creature’s side Shamsiel looks over the hard, muscular lines of the battered body, hissing softly at the jagged wound on his abdomen; there were other, smaller injuries littered across the dark gray flesh though nothing close in severity. The sky flashes again as lightning streaks across the clouds, the crash of thunder so loud it makes his ears ache, signalling his limited time.

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Shamsiel takes hold of the ghoul and heaves him up, grunting softly at the weight. The ghoul’s flesh was hot, almost unbearably so, though he does not come to as he’s leveraged over a broad shoulder and carried off into the woods, tail dragging limp amongst the fallen dead leaves.


	2. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simple solutions do not always soothe a conflicted heart.

Halfway back to the cave Shamsiel comes to a startling revelation: his power in this situation would be useless. Less than useless, the more he thought about it. The mere presence of divine light would burn the ghoul; attempting to heal his wounds with it would likely eat through him like acid.

“Have do it the hard, long way I guess,” he grunts, nearly stumbling over an upturned tree root. From the corner of his eye he spies a cluster of herbs, ones he knows the human use to make healing salves. Taking note where they are he hurries through the forest back to the cave, gently depositing his injured companion on the floor and dashing back out into the forest, skidding to a stop on dead leaves. He plucks the herbs with as much care and haste he can afford, glancing up at the darkening sky occasionally as he scavenges for more, also picking up a large flat rock and a smaller round one to use as a crude mortar and pestle.

Returning to the cave just as the first few fat drops of rain begin to fall Shamsiel sets his gathered items aside, checks to see the ghoul is still living, and sets about starting a fire. Once the fire catches he begins grinding down the herbs into a paste, making sure to keep one eye on the ghoul curled on the ground next to him, constantly checking to make sure his chest rose and fell with some kind of regularity. The storm outside the mouth of the cave rages, water falling in torrential sheets till he couldn’t make out the trees just beyond and he mouths a quick thanks that the wind is pointed away from the cave opening, keeping them warm and dry.

“I’m afraid this might hurt a bit,” Shamsiel says, setting aside the herbal paste and taking the skin of water from his pack to clean the wound, tearing apart a spare shirt to use as bandages and a rag. Thankfully the water had not been blessed, filled in a clear stream early in the day’s work on the battlefield, and would be safe to use to clear the gore and dirt from the wound. The angel takes his time, slowly blotting away the dried blood and grime, working his way in towards the wound. As he dabs the cloth against the ragged edges of the the laceration the ghoul twitches and groans, causing Shamsiel to pause and watch the creature intently to see if he wakes.

_ “Ghouls are deranged, feral things. Physical incarnations of sin with little thought of anything else. They are less than animals, a blight where they come to the earthly realm, their very presence twisting and sullying everything around them. They are to be destroyed on sight, completely and utterly, their carcasses purified in holy flame to release the soul within, so that it may be resanctified and returned to God for a holy purpose. We do not speak with them, for their every word is a lie. We do not look upon them except when delivering holy judgement. We do will not suffer a ghoul, or any instrument of Satan, to live.” _

“Forgive me, Father,” Shamsiel murmurs, sighing as Michael's lecture resounds through his memory. Looking down at the ghoul, helpless and in pain, he can't help but feel compassion, a deep sadness blanketing his heart forcing him to look away. “I cannot kill him… My purpose is to heal and soothe, not destroy.” The conflicted angel stares into the crackling flames, hoping that maybe some wisdom would present itself yet nothing does, just the warm flickering glow of the fire as it eats away at the wood. He heaves a sigh then turns back to the ghoul, only to find a pair of hard, icy blue eyes watching him intently. The angel stills on reflex, slowly holding his hands up in a non threatening gesture, showing the ghoul his hands were empty of any weapons.

“Peace, I mean you no harm. I’m trying to help that wound close and heal, I fear you will die if it is not dealt with soon.”

The eyes narrow at Shamsiel’s words, a low, gravelly growl coming from the ghoul’s throat: “...What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for comments and kudos! 💙💙💙

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've been super fuckin' bad at replying to comments but please know I read and appreciate, and maybe even cry over, each and every one! Thank you all for for your love and support, I live for it~ 💙💙💙


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